Playing Doctor
by BlueSuedeShoes
Summary: Chloe is feeling under the weather: “Ollie,” she whined into the intercom. “I’m sick. Go away.” Minor Spoilers for the episode Conspiracy.


**Author's Comment: WARNING: Minor spoilers for Conspiracy.**

**Otherwise: Fluff. Utter fluff. I was sick, and so than I was like, hmm...I think I'll write a story about a girl who's sick, which turned into a fanfic about Chloe being sick.**

**I know; I don't know where these brilliant ideas come from either. ;)**

**BlueSuedeShoes**

* * *

Chloe sneezed. And coughed. And sniffed.

And then she sneezed again.

She groaned, flopping back down on her pillow.

It was going to be a long, awful day. At least she didn't have any plans to break. She could just sit and be pathetic in her pajamas all day long.

Her throat was absolutely killing her though.

She dragged herself out of bed with a groan to make herself some hot tea with lemon. Why, oh why did she have to get sick? Why her?

When she tried to stand up she had to sit right back down again, her head spinning with the effort of rising too quickly.

"Ugh!" she exclaimed, frustrated and feeling more than a little helpless as she dropped backward again.

Someone buzzed to be let in.

Slowly, she pulled herself back up and forced one foot in front of the other to the security monitor. It was Oliver.

Her head dropped to the monitor as she rested her forehead against it in weariness. "You can't be serious. Now?" she complained aloud.

"Ollie," she whined into the intercom. "I'm sick. Go away."

She watched as he listened and then smirked. He turned to look toward the camera and raised an eyebrow, communicating to her that he wasn't going away.

"Fine," she said, heaving a sigh. "You have been warned."

She let him in and went to go collapse on the couch.

* * *

Oliver walked in to find Chloe, poor thing, sprawled out on the couch, her head hanging over the arm rest and one leg thrown over the back.

"You can't possibly be comfortable like that," he laughed.

She pulled her head up to grimace at him. Then she dropped it back down again. "What do you want, Ollie?" she whined.

He chuckled. "Well Clark told me you were under the weather, so I came over to take care of you."

Chloe looked up at him again, suspiciously this time. "Excuse me?"

"What?" he asked defensively

"What exactly do you propose to do to 'take care of me,' may I ask?"

"Well I--"

"_You_ cannot take care of yourself, let alone me."

"Now listen--"

"As a matter of fact, I strongly suspect that you are going to make this worse. I have seen how you are when _you're_ sick. You pretend you're not sick, and then you push yourself to the point that you nearly kill yourself. Go home."

Oliver raised an eyebrow at her, the corner of his mouth pulling into a smile. "Oh, ye of little faith. Just because I don't like to admit it when I'm sick doesn't mean I don't know how to take care of someone who _is_ sick."

Chloe just rolled her eyes and dropped her head back again. "Fantastic."

"I know I am. The question is, are you going to throw me out?"

Without looking at him, she simply waved a dismissive hand. "Do I look like I have the energy to throw you out right now?"

He grinned. "Excellent. Now, is your fridge stocked?"

"Relatively."

He checked. "You have four eggs, leftover pizza, half a carton of chocolate soy milk, and some string cheese. You call that stocked?"

"Relatively."

He rolled his eyes, amused. "Fine, I'm going to go get groceries in a little bit, but before I go we're getting you in a more comfortable position."

"I _am_ comfortable."

"Don't argue," he patronized, going into her room to pull the pillows and comforter off her bed. He came back in her living room and lifted her up from the couch, propping her on a pillow. She looked unamused, but didn't argue as he tucked the blanket around her.

"Stay," he told her.

She rolled her eyes.

"I like you when you're like this," he smirked.

"Like what? Congested?" she asked, coughing.

"Too tired to put up a fight," he winked. Then added, as he grabbed his jacket, "I'll be back in a little while.

* * *

When Oliver returned, Chloe had fallen asleep. He grinned to himself. She was lying with her head thrown back again and her mouth hanging open. He walked over and situated her against the pillow properly, knowing her throat would be killing her later if he didn't.

Oliver wasn't going to pretend he didn't have an ulterior motive in coming to take care of her. Chloe had been...distant lately. Ever since that whole affair with the warrior angel comic, things between them had taken off at lightning sped. And then him accusing her of using him for his money (which, technically, she wasn't. She'd just handled things really poorly). Note to self, when it came to Chloe, ask questions first, shoot later. Since then he'd felt her pushing him away, like she didn't trust him, or she was angry at him for not trusting her.

Of course, he'd like to point out that _she_ was the one embezzling funds from _him_, however important a cause it may have been. He shook his head at her as he unloaded groceries. She could have just _asked_ for the money. Idiot. Trust Chloe to make things more complicated than was necessary.

Regardless, he wasn't going to point it out to her now. No need to bring it up again. The trouble was, he could tell she was avoiding getting closer to him all of a sudden. Things hadn't been that great before, either. Yes, the friends with benefits thing was great. There was a time where he would have beaten himself before he would have complained about the situation, but Chloe was...well, as Hallmark as it sounded, she was special. He wanted more with her.

A message she didn't seem to be getting. So this was his chance to show her he was in it for the long haul. That he wanted to be around her even when she was irritable with watery eyes and a red nose.

He laughed to himself. Even when she was a mess she was gorgeous.

* * *

_Three Days Later_

Chloe still couldn't believe it. Oliver hadn't just done her grocery shopping. He'd actually gone to the trouble of making her homemade pepper steak soup (she hated chicken soup--too salty). Then he'd done the dishes, taken out the garbage (tissues abounded everywhere), forced her to swallow cough syrup that tasted like shoe polish, made her tea with lemon and honey, and in spite of how gross she'd felt and looked, he'd sat with her on that couch all evening until she fell asleep again. And she'd woken up the next morning in her own bed.

It was a side of Oliver she'd never expected to see. He was the CEO, the boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth, the Green Arrow, for the love of God! Since when was he all sensitive and June Cleaver-like?

Not that it took away from his masculinity or anything. The very fact that he could be such a total _guy_ and still turn around and stun her with things like that was what had her amazed.

Today she was feeling one hundred percent again, finally. So she was on her way to see him for a little thank you.

When she got there she burst into laughter. Oliver was lying on a yoga mat in exhuastion. He coughed.

"Oh, Ollie. What are you doing?" she laughed.

"My morning work out, thank you," he said grumpily.

"You caught my cold, didn't you?"

"No."

"Oh, Ollie," she gave him a sympathetic smile, walking over to help him off the floor. "You're in denial. This is exactly what I was talking about before."

He looked at her stubbornly. "I am not." Then he sneezed.

Chloe just laughed at him, dragging him over to the couch. "You poor, pathetic billionaire."

"Yeah, well--" he coughed before he could finish his argument.

"Ollie, why don't you just call into work now, and let me return your favor from the other day, huh?"

"Chloe," he protested.

"Come on, Oliver," she rolled her eyes, pushing him onto the couch. "Are you really going to argue with the idea of me playing nurse?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Is there a costume involved?" he teased.

"Oh brother." She started to head to his kitche, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"Chloe, what are we doing?" he asked, suppressing a cough.

"I'm going to make you soup. You're going to stay here."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You know what I mean."

She sighed, expression softening. "I don't know, Oliver. We'll talk about it later."

"Now," he insisted.

She looked at him searchingly. "When you're well again."

"Deal," he said, breaking into the cough. Chloe smiled and ran her hand through his hair before leaning over to kiss his forehead.

"I like you when you're like this."

"Like what?"

"Helpless," she said, grinning.

Yes, she thought to herself, they definitely had some things to talk about, but not until he was better.

* * *

**Author's Comment: Was I the only one who was irritated by the idea of Chloe stealing money from Oliver? It seemed pointless to me. As if he wouldn't just give her the money if she asked for it. Stupid Smallville writers. --shakes head--**

**I'm going to go find out where I put the rest of my cough drops now...**


End file.
